


Give me touch (Cause I've been missing it)

by whenshewrites



Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is a Softie, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, In the House the Nogitsune Does Not Exist, Light Angst, M/M, Monster of the Week, One Shot, Soft Feels, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25930312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites
Summary: “It wasn’t your fault.”Stiles laughed shakily. It didn’t even sound like his own laughter.“Stiles, it wasn’t your fault.”“I killed a man.”“... You protected me.”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956889
Comments: 33
Kudos: 446
Collections: Sterek Goodness





	Give me touch (Cause I've been missing it)

There was blood on his hands, blood on his shirt, and Stiles felt like he could lose his lunch.

There was a banshee scream in the air.

Faintly, Stiles was aware of the voices around him. Some part of him recognized the fingers brushing over the back of his neck; the soft whispers that were more a blur than anything else, but then some part of him was completely blank. Stiles shivered, dropping down to his knees, and just stared at the body of the hunter in front of him.

There was a body of a hunter in front of him. Not moving, not breathing. Glassy eyes staring at the dark sky. And there was blood on Stiles’s hands.

Blood on his hands, on his shirt. And he felt sick.

Stiles didn’t… he didn’t remember much of the last few minutes. Only, that there’d been a gun to Derek’s head, the hunter had laughed when Scott had attempted to talk him down, and then Stiles was moving forward with his baseball bat, without a thought other than Derek’s safety.

Someone was kneeling at his side, hands cupping his face. Stiles swallowed hard, breaths trembling, and turned toward soft grey-green eyes. Derek looked a lot more than concerned.

“Hey, Stiles, are you okay? Are you with me?”

Stiles could barely breathe. He tried to nod but was pretty sure he failed. Derek searched his face and then nodded, slipping a hand underneath Stiles’s legs and picking him up. He barely registered any of that, turning his face into Derek’s chest. And faintly, he was aware of the rest of the pack watching them. Silently. Nervously. Derek barely even glanced over in Scott’s direction.

“Take care of the body.”

“But Derek—”

“Take care of it, Scott.”

Stiles closed his eyes, still trembling. Derek’s grip tightened and then they were moving. Through the preserve, away from the others, the night air cold against Stiles’s face. He didn’t realize why until Derek murmured something soft and Stiles realized there were tears streaking down his face.

“Don’t cry,” the man said quietly. “You’re alright, Stiles. Everything is going to be okay.”

There was blood on his hands. Blood on his shirt. And Stiles felt sick.

“You’re going to be okay.”

The last time he’d killed a man… the last time he’d killed a man… When was the last time Stiles had killed a man? They’d all done it before, hadn’t they? They’d all gotten their hands dirty. Usually, it was over quick. Someone would roar, someone else would howl. There’d be splatters of blood and no one really talked about it the next day.

When was the last time Stiles had killed a man?

“I don’t think I’ve done this before.”

The words slipped out before Stiles could stop them, the realization hitting him like a blow. Because yeah, he was pretty handy-dandy with his baseball bat, but did things ever go that far? But then there had been a gun pressed against Derek’s temple. Stiles hadn’t even stopped to think.

He closed his eyes tighter. Derek shifted and it seemed like the man was trying to pull Stiles even further into his chest.

He could hear the steady thump-thump of Derek’s heartbeat through his thin t-shirt. Stiles thought silently— dully— that it was kind of a beautiful sound.

“Can I take you home?”

It took him a moment to realize Derek was asking _his_ permission. And sudden terror clutched at Stiles’s heart. The thought of his dad seeing him like this; covered in blood and trembling, made Stiles feel sick all over again. He curled a hand into Derek’s sleeve, face turned into his chest, and Derek’s heart skipped a beat.

“Okay, okay, Stiles, it’s okay. I won’t do that. We can go to the loft.”

The loft was safe. The loft was silent.

Stiles liked the loft.

Derek carried him to the Camaro and Stiles felt a little dizzy as he was lowered into the passenger seat. Derek buckled him in, grey-green eyes searching his face, and the man brushed a thumb across his cheek. Then he was gone, the door was closing, and Stiles stared blankly out the window.

The last time he killed a man… _the last time he killed a man._ No, this was the first time.

This was the first time.

The ride back to the loft was a quiet one. 

Stiles felt a little sick and a lot confused. Like maybe he was disconnected from his body. Some part of him was hyper-aware of the blood on his hand and clothes, freaking him out more and more with each second that passed. But then another part of him was just… quiet. Disconnected.

When the car stopped, he blinked a few times and went for his seatbelt. But then Derek was there, opening the door and unbuckling him, and Stiles attempted a chuckle when he was swept up again. As if he was injured or something stupid.

“I can walk, Derek.”

The man rumbled something unintelligible. Stiles blinked into his chest and faintly realized the man’s shirt was smeared with blood. That made Stiles’s stomach flip again and he swallowed hard.

When they entered the loft, Derek set him down gently on the couch and then looked uncertain. He made an abortive move forward, pulled himself back, and turned away, vanishing into the kitchen. A few seconds later, he came back with a rag and Stiles didn’t think that was going to even make a dent in all the blood that currently coated his skin.

The man reached forward and Stiles caught his arm. Derek looked nervous again.

“Stiles?”

“Can I just… shower or something?”

Derek’s face softened. He nodded and backed away, leaving Stiles in the silence once more. Faintly, he caught the sound of running water, closing his eyes to the rest of the silent loft. He’d have to text his dad, Stiles realized. Something, at least.

By the time Derek came back, Stiles was sitting up with his phone out. Bloody fingers trembled over the screen and he typed out a quick “At Scott’s” as if his dad would believe that. Or hopefully, at least, Scott could cover him.

Stiles didn’t know which of those he’d rather, to be honest.

Derek hesitated a few feet away and Stiles glanced up slowly. Derek cleared his throat, eyes dropping to the floor.

“Is a bath okay?”

Stiles glanced down at himself again. For some reason, just the idea of standing in a shower for long enough to get himself cleaned was daunting. So quietly, he nodded. Derek looked relieved.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“No,” Stiles said softly. “But thank you.”

Derek looked like he wanted to say more, but the man just nodded. Stiles pushed himself up and plodded past him, ducking into the bathroom door and closing the door tightly behind him. He debated locking it for a moment and then just turned away, stripping off his blood-covered clothes.

He didn’t manage to look in the mirror for longer than a few seconds before he was on his knees in front of the toilet dry heaving.

There was blood on his hands. Blood on his skin.

So much blood.

Stiles closed his eyes, trembling as tears burned at his eyes. Behind him, quick footsteps approached and he startled as he heard the door open. A figure dropped to their knees down beside him and Stiles unconsciously leaned into the warmth, tears slipping steadily down his cheeks. Faintly, Derek’s voice punctured through his panic.

“Stiles, _Stiles.”_

“Don’t leave,” Stiles babbled, curling further against the man and grabbing at his sleeve. “Don’t leave, Derek. Don’t leave, please don’t leave. Please”

“Okay, okay,” Derek said, sounding uncertain. “Okay, Stiles. I won’t.”

“Stay with me.”

“Okay, Stiles,” the man said again, softer this time. “I’ll stay.”

Stiles swallowed hard, throat tight. He let Derek gently help him up and guide him toward the tub. The first touch of water was almost too warm but then Stiles all but eased into it. He closed his eyes, arms wrapping around his chest, and felt Derek’s fingers carefully ghost over his skin.

“Hey, Stiles. Can I get a rag?”

Quietly, Stiles nodded. He heard the man get up, the door open and close, and he finally blinked his eyes open again, gazing dully at the opposite wall.

_“Scott, Scott, don’t let him shoot Derek. He can’t shoot Derek.”_

_“He won’t, Stiles! Get back.”_

_“He can’t shoot Derek.”_

_“He won’t— Stiles! Stiles, don’t! Come back!”_

Something touched his shoulder again and Stiles startled so hard, some of the bathwater went sloshing over the side of the tub. Derek gave him a soft-eyed look and Stiles ducked his head, closing his eyes. The events of the night still played over and over again in his head. The words shouted into the night still echoed through his ears.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Stiles laughed shakily. It didn’t even sound like his own laughter.

“Stiles, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I killed a man.”

“... You protected me.”

And yeah, that’s what Stiles had been trying to do, right? Except that had involved taking his baseball bat to a hunter— a human being— and not stopping until he was covered in blood. Until someone was shouting his name, someone else was pulling him back, and then… then...

Stiles felt sick again. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I killed someone, Derek.”

Derek was quiet for a long moment. There was a wet noise and Stiles glanced over to see him dipping the dishrag from earlier into the path water. Gentle fingers danced in the air above Stiles’s shoulder before touching, and then Derek was moving the cloth across his shoulder blades. “You saved my life.”

“My dad can’t know.”

Derek looked sad, but he nodded. Stiles took another trembling breath, curling into himself a little bit.

“I couldn’t lose you.”

Because that had been the only thought going through his mind at the moment. Stiles liked to think he’d do the same for anyone in the pack, but it had been _Derek._ Derek, who he’d known since he’d been a stupid sixteen-year-old kid. Derek, who Stiles didn’t know what he could call, but he’d protect with his life.

He couldn’t lose Derek. He never would.

It was quiet, then. Stiles sat wrapped around himself and Derek moved a rag across the blood-stained expanse of his skin. Soon, the water was tinted pink and Stiles was shivering a little, the warmth of the water having evaporated a long time ago. Derek pulled the plug to the water and turned his face away, offering out a towel.

Stiles looked at it for a moment before wrapping the warm material around his shoulders. He stepped out of the tub and Derek glanced down at him, offering a small smile.

“I can put on a movie and order dinner. Is take out okay?”

Stiles felt stupid for how tight his throat became all over again. He stepped closer, turning his face into the man’s chest, and Derek wrapped arms around his shoulders, pulling him in closer. Swallowing hard, Stiles nodded.

“Yeah, that’s good.”

“You’re gonna be okay, Stiles.”

That might take a while, Stiles thought silently. But here, now, yeah, he could be. He could be okay. Derek pressed a kiss into his damp hair and Stiles all but melted into it. The touch, the comfort. He didn’t know what he could call this, but he knew he’d do anything to protect it.

He’d do anything to protect Derek.

“Me too, Stiles.”

Stiles shivered, wondering how much of that he'd said out loud, and clamped his mouth shut. A small chuckle rumbled through Derek’s chest. The man held him tighter and for a moment, they just stood there. In the silence. The fading warmth.

_Me too._

Stiles didn’t glance into the mirror as Derek turned him around and led him back out.

**Author's Note:**

> Yikes, it's been a hot-second since I've posted anything! I went through a bit of a writing slump (so this one-shot might be a little meh) but I'm hoping to be updating regularly again soon! Of courses, I'd love to hear what you all thought <3
> 
> Come hang with me on Tumblr?
> 
> [the dumpster](https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Or on my favorite Sterek discord!
> 
> [not a dumpster](https://discord.gg/78RjqwY)


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